


on feathers and dreams

by superhoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dean/Cas Tropefest 5k Mid-Winter Challenge, Fairy Tale Style, First Kiss, Forced Separation, Happy Ending, Illustrated, Inventor Dean, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tests of Devotion, Winged Castiel, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 14:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14190990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: Once upon a time, an angel fell in love with a man.But Castiel's brethren did not approve of their bond, and so it was put to the test: if Dean could prove his love and his devotion to Castiel in spite of overwhelming obstacles, and if Castiel could keep his faith in Dean for the duration of his trials, only then would they be permitted to be together.





	on feathers and dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so pleased to present my entry for this year’s Dean/Cas Tropefest Mid-Winter 5k Challenge! 
> 
> It was once again my absolute pleasure to work with the immensely talented Aceriee, whose artwork you’ll find embedded throughout the story. I am eternally grateful for the gorgeous images she created for this little story. Please visit the art masterpost on [tumblr](https://missaceriee.tumblr.com/tagged/5ktropefest2018) or [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157555) and leave her some love.
> 
> Thank you ever so much to my dear [whichstiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel) for beta-reading this. Your feedback and advice were invaluable. Thank you to the rest of the Unicorn Paddock for support and encouragement along the way. And of course, thank you also to the challenge mods, Jojo and Muse, for another delightful Tropefest experience.

Once upon a time, an angel fell in love with a man.

In those days, it was not common for angels to spend time on Earth. They stayed separate from humanity, preferring the calm order of Heaven to the noise and chaos of the human world. But there are always those who prove an exception to the rule, and such a one was Castiel, Angel of Thursday.

He could not say when he began to feel curious about their charges, the humans who prayed to them every minute of every day. He granted their prayers when he could, and he felt satisfaction in his work. But slowly, over the long years of his existence, he began to wonder what life must be like for them, fleeting as it was.

So one day, when the archangels were occupied with a matter of importance and urgence too great to involve Castiel, he left Heaven and descended to Earth.

Castiel knew a great deal about humans. He had, after all, been observing them for centuries. But he had never spoken to one, never seen one face-to-face, never felt the touch of one’s hand. Earth was, in a word, overwhelming. The sights, the sounds, the smells-- all of it so different from the neutral tones and hushed voices of Heaven. It entranced him as much as it frightened him, and he cast a web of invisibility about himself, so that he might observe the world around him without being noticed by curious eyes.

He visited many places, took in all the marvels of human ingenuity, and he was moved by them. At the end of the day, he found himself outside a small town, watching as its people retreated to their homes, waving cheerfully at one another as they went. 

And then he heard a voice.

“Who are you?”

The voice was low, rough, and rather unfriendly. He turned, startled, and met a pair of brilliant green eyes and a scowling face, then looked down to see a blade drawn and ready in the stranger’s hand.

“You can see me?” he asked, too surprised to take flight. His own blade manifested itself, but he made no move to strike. 

“Of course I can see you, you’re standing right in front of me,” the man replied, his scowl deepening. “Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel. And you should not be able to see me,” Castiel said. He closed his eyes and felt for the spell that kept him hidden from human sight, but it was gone. He must have lost his concentration amidst the distractions of the day. A foolish mistake, and one that might cost him dearly.

“Castiel,” the man repeated slowly. His eyes were fixed on Castiel’s wings. “And what is the Angel of Thursday doing here?”

Ignoring his question, Castiel asked one of his own. “You know of me,” he stated, and waited for the man’s nod before continuing. “A proper introduction would be fitting. May I ask who I have the dubious honour of addressing?”

With an inelegant snort, the man sheathed his blade. “My name is Dean,” he said. “And I still want to know what you’re doing here.”

All his life, Dean had heard stories about the angels. Gabriel with his horn of truth, Michael with his lance. But he knew nothing of Castiel other than his name and his duty. 

It was not, however, in Dean’s nature to fall to his knees in awe of the celestial being before him. 

“I came to study humanity,” Castiel replied after a long pause. “Perhaps it was ill-advised of me.”

“Perhaps,” Dean agreed. But he could not deny his own curiosity. A builder and an inventor by nature, he always desired to study the _how_ of things, and angels were no exception. He stepped closer, staring in fascination at the great wings that spread behind Castiel and rippled in the faint breeze. “If I answer your questions, will you answer mine?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side and looked at Dean with questioning eyes. “There are some things that humans are not meant to know,” he replied.

Dean laughed. “Then perhaps there are things angels are not meant to know either.”

Castiel frowned. Surely, that could not be true. What a strange, impertinent man Dean was. Castiel could leave this very instant, pretend this entire visit never occured.

But instead, he folded his wings behind him and seated himself on the ground. After a long pause, Dean sat beside him, keeping a wary distance. “You can ask first,” he offered.

There were a thousand subjects Castiel could have broached, a thousand topics he could have chosen. But as he gazed at Dean, all other questions vanished from his mind.

“Tell me about you,” he said.

Dean hardly knew where to begin. What could he share that would be of interest to an angel? But he had no wish to end this strange, unlooked for encounter, so he gestured to the village and said, “I live over there. With my younger brother, and the animals we keep on our farm.”

Castiel nodded as though this were the most fascinating thing he had ever heard. “And how long have you lived?” he asked.

“Twenty-two years,” Dean answered. A man grown, but to Castiel, he must have seemed a mere infant. 

Indeed, Castiel seemed to marvel at his reply. “So young,” he said softly. 

“How long have you lived?” Dean challenged, his pride stung slightly.

Castiel’s gaze was distant as he replied. “Until this morning, I would have said I had lived an eternity.” He looked at Dean, and a small smile hovered at the corners of his mouth. “But now I begin to wonder if today is the first day I have truly lived, rather than merely existed.”

That glimmer of humour softened Dean considerably, and he laughed. After a moment, Castiel joined him, their mingled noises of merriment echoing softly in the field around them. 

And so they sat and talked until the sun disappeared over the horizon and the stars crept out into the sky, watching intently as an angel and a man conversed under their light.

It was the first such meeting, but it was far from the last. As often as he could, Castiel would escape from his duties in Heaven and travel to Earth to meet with Dean. In turn, Dean spent less time in his fields or in his workshop, preferring to venture out to secret places where he and Castiel could meet without fear of discovery. The other villagers teased Dean for his frequent absences, suggesting that he had a lover from the next town. His younger brother would roll his eyes every time Dean announced he was leaving, but he would smile once Dean was out of sight, pleased to see that Dean was seeking his happiness after so many years of dedication to his work and to his family.

“My mother died when I was very young,” Dean told Castiel one evening, the two of them sprawled in the grass in the fields outside Dean’s village. “And my father did what he could, but he didn’t know how to live without her. They said it was an accident, but Sam and I have always known he died of a broken heart.”

“That’s not possible,” Castiel said. “Human hearts-- they don’t break, not literally.”

Dean threw him a strange look, the light of the stars reflected in his eyes. “You still have a great deal to learn about humans,” he said softly. 

“About broken hearts?” Castiel asked, raising a skeptical brow.

“No.” Dean shook his head. “About love.”

He held his breath as he held Castiel’s gaze, all the courage in him gathered for this very moment. He could see Castiel’s eyes narrow as he absorbed Dean’s statement, as he considered its implications. And then--

“Will you teach me?” Castiel asked. 

His hand lay outstretched on the ground between them. Ever so slowly, Dean reached for it, and enfolded it in his own. 

“Yes,” he said, “I will.”

The stars watched with great interest as Dean pressed his lips first to Castiel’s brow, and then to his cheek, to the tip of his nose and then finally, after a pause in which he searched Castiel’s eyes to find an answer there, to his lips. One young star nearly tumbled from the sky in its excitement, but Dean and Castiel were too preoccupied to notice the shower of trailing sparks in the sky, focused solely on each other.

When Castiel returned to Heaven that night, it was with the phantom feeling of Dean’s lips pressed against his own and a song that threatened to burst from his chest, its rhythm in tune with the beat of his heart. But he could not give voice to it, or the other angels would become suspicious. So he answered prayers in as normal a fashion as possible and whiled away the time until he could see Dean once more.

Back on Earth, Dean’s younger brother was waiting for him when he returned home. “Where have you been?” he asked, unbridled curiosity in his voice. 

Dean shook his head. “I can’t talk about it,” he said quietly. “Please, Sam. Just trust me.”

With a wisdom beyond his years, Sam nodded. “Be careful,” he advised. “Secrets never stay hidden for long.”

Was it wisdom alone, or was it some gift of foresight that led to Sam’s pronouncement? The next time Castiel and Dean met, they fell eagerly into each other’s arms, and when the hurried intensity of their reunion had passed, they sat curled together, Castiel’s wings wrapped around them both. Dean raised a curious hand and stroked lightly over the feathers, noting the way a shiver ran through Castiel’s entire body at his touch. 

“They’re beautiful,” he said. “You are beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Castiel murmured. 

There was a noise like the crack of a whip, and before Dean could even cry out, he was wrenched from Castiel’s arms, the cool metal of a blade pressed against his throat. Castiel struggled against the hold of another angel, his eyes wide with shock and terror, and Dean reached for him in vain.

“Be still,” the angel holding him said. “Or you will both be killed.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Castiel demanded. “Michael, Raphael, why are you here?”

“Because of you, brother,” Raphael replied, voice harsh.“Because of your crimes.”

“What crimes have I committed?” Castiel demanded.

“Fraternizing with humans.” Michael nodded in Dean’s direction. “Leaving Heaven without permission. Neglecting your duties there.”

“Cas--” Dean started to say, but was cut off by the press of the blade against his throat. “Silence,” Raphael hissed in his ear.

“For these crimes, you shall be bound to Heaven,” Michael continued. “And as for your--” He sneered at Dean. “Companion. You will never see him again.”

“No!” Castiel cried out, his voice anguished. “I beg you.”

“I propose another solution,” a new voice said. Twisting in Raphael’s hold, Dean saw a third angel striding towards them, his golden eyes alight with mischief. “A test, of sorts.”

“Gabriel,” Raphael sighed, “why are you here?”

“It is a matter for all archangels to decide,” Gabriel replied. “And here is my proposal: this human seems to care for Castiel, but humans are fickle. If he can prove his love and his worth, we will allow them to be together.”

“Yes,” Dean said immediately. “I will do whatever you ask.”

The corner of Gabriel’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “So hasty,” he sighed. “You must learn patience. And so, Castiel will return to Heaven with us. You may visit him there, every day, and claim one kiss from him. But that will be all you will be granted to sustain your bond. One kiss per day. And should you miss a day-- well, then you will not see him the next, or ever again.”

“Dean, no,” Castiel called out. “It’s a trick, you must not believe them.”

Dean smiled at him, sadly. “I must try,” he murmured. “But how am I to get to Heaven?”

“That is not our concern,” Michael replied, smiling thinly. “Yes, Gabriel, this is a good plan. Come, Castiel.”

“Wait!” Dean cried. “One kiss per day. You promised.”

“Very well,” Raphael sighed. And the archangels looked away, having no interest in seeing one of their brothers debase himself with a human. Perhaps they ought to have watched, for it might have warned them what was to come.

Dean cradled Castiel’s face in his hands. “I will find a way,” he promised. 

“I have faith in you,” Castiel replied.

And their vows were sealed with a kiss before Castiel was torn from Dean’s arms once more. Dean watched as the angels took to the skies, and only when they disappeared from sight did he look away.

“And now, to work,” he said to the empty air.

He knew the legends well: high above the clouds, beyond the stars, lay the gates of Heaven. Human as he was, Dean had no way of reaching them, but if he could only devise a way to fly as the angels did…

For all their flaws, human beings are wildly inventive, and when properly motivated, their capacity for creation is equal to that of their own creator. Dean had always had an interest in machines and gears, and he went directly from the empty field to the workshop behind his house, where he surveyed his tools with consideration.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, peering around the frame of the door. 

Dean lifted his anvil and smiled to himself. “I am giving myself wings,” he declared.

“Wings?” Sam repeated. “But why?”

“Because I have a promise to keep,” Dean said softly. “Will you help me?”

Sam did not understand the logic behind his brother’s actions, but the desperation in Dean’s eyes and in his voice was enough to convince him. He nodded and came to stand beside Dean.“Tell me what to do,” he said. 

Meanwhile, in Heaven, Castiel was escorted to an empty room, and one of his sisters was summoned to stand guard over him. She would not meet his eyes, despite his pleas for information. 

Time passes differently in Heaven, the celestial sphere having no concern for the rotation of the planet around its sun. Castiel was not permitted to see any of his brethren, nor to answer any prayers. He could do nothing but stare at the smooth, blank walls around him and wait to see how his fate would be decided.

He drifted into a semi-conscious state, the closest angels come to sleep, but was roused when he felt Michael’s presence outside his door. “Come,” Michael said simply, waving aside the barrier that kept Castiel imprisoned. 

He led Castiel away, and as they flew, Castiel’s heart pounded in anticipation. They soon reached the farthest edge of their realm, closest to the gates, and then he saw him.

Dean, with a pair of enormous wings strapped to his back, and an expression of smug triumph on his face that turned to profound relief the moment he met Castiel’s eyes.

“Cas,” he breathed, shaking off the hold of the two angels watching over him. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Castiel replied, ignoring the whispers as more and more of his siblings crept forward to observe the proceedings. He stepped forward and settled a hand on Dean’s arm, sweeping it up towards his wings. “Dean, what did you do?”

“I gave myself wings,” Dean told him proudly. “Sam and I made these from scraps of metal and leather. They gave me a few frights on the way here, but held me well enough.”

Running his hand over the raised seams of the joints, Castiel could see where the metal was welded together, where the different colours blended, copper and gold and steel all mixed to create something that ought to have looked jarring and rough but instead had its own type of quiet beauty. 

“You did this for me?” he asked, marvelling at the sheer ingenuity and stubbornness it must have taken for Dean to make them, and so quickly.

“I would do anything for you,” Dean replied, reaching out to cradle Castiel’s face in his palm, the warmth of him so welcome in the chill air of Heaven. 

“Enough,” Michael declared. His face was pinched with displeasure at being thwarted. “You have found a way to see Castiel, so you may claim your kiss. And then you must go.”

Dean shot him a glare, but obeyed. He had passed the first test, and now that he knew his wings could bear him to Heaven, it was only his own will that need remain strong now. He stepped closer to Castiel and pressed their lips together, pouring all his love into that one gesture. Castiel returned his kiss with desperate intensity, and when they finally broke apart, he looked deep into Dean’s eyes and said, “Until tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow,” Dean echoed, the words tossed back over his shoulder as the angels grabbed him none-too-gently by the shoulder and guided him back towards the gates. Castiel watched him go, one hand still pressed to his lips, and only turned when Dean had disappeared from sight.

“Your plan will fail,” Castiel told Michael. “Dean will prove himself true, and we will be together.”

Michael sneered at him. “You may think so now,” he warned. “But to humans, a year is a long time. With nothing to sustain him but a single kiss, Dean will soon begin to resent you. The effort of flying here each day will no longer seem worth the reward. Or he will find someone else to occupy his thoughts. Humans are fickle creatures, Castiel.”

“Not Dean,” Castiel insisted, though he felt a chill of doubt pass through his heart. “You are wrong to doubt him.”

“We shall see,” Michael replied. 

With his head held high, Castiel allowed himself to be escorted back to the white room. He knew Dean would not fail him, and so he was content to wait until the next day, when they could be together again.

Sam waited in the fields outside their village, his lantern like a grounded star to guide Dean home. Pulling on the straps of his wings, Dean folded them behind himself to slow his descent, and only stumbled slightly as his feet made contact with the ground. 

“Did you do it? Did you reach Heaven?” Sam asked, his eyes gleaming in the light of the lantern. “What was it like?”

“Yes, I made it,” Dean said, unbuckling the belt that helped keep his wings around him and letting them fall to the ground. He groaned, stretching out the muscles in his back and shoulders, sore from the effort of flying. “But only just inside the gates, and truth be told, I only had eyes for Castiel.”

Sam sighed in disappointment but picked up the wings from the ground, staggering slightly under their weight. “Come along,” he said. “There’s soup waiting.”

Dean ruffled his brother’s hair, grateful for his unwavering support, and together they set off for home. When he finally crept into his bed that night, Dean dreamed of Castiel and the day they could finally be together. 

The days fell into a pattern. Every evening, once most of the villagers had retired to their homes, Dean would strap his wings to his back and fly up to Heaven. He would only stay long enough to collect his kiss, perhaps exchange a few hurried words with Castiel, before the other angels would separate them and Dean would be forced to fly back down to Earth. 

It was not easy for either of them. Castiel grew bored without even the ability to answer prayers, his connection to the human world cut off for fear he would find a way to use it to communicate with Dean. And Dean missed his conversations with Castiel, the long hours they would spend discussing anything and everything that struck their fancy. 

But they were both given strength by their love for one another, and they were both determined to endure this year-long trial. With every day that passed, they were closer to success. 

Michael and Raphael noted this with growing concern. As Dean continued to remain steadfast in his devotion, the other angels began to take notice, their earlier disgust at the bond between Dean and Castiel slowly fading into something more wistful, something almost envious. They whispered to one another, wondering if Dean might be successful, if the archangels might be proven wrong.

“This must end,” Raphael told Michael. “Now.”

Michael nodded, and then smiled. “And so it will,” he swore.

The next evening, as Dean left his house to begin his preparations for flight, a slight figure crept out from a nearby house and followed him. It was soon joined by others, and just as Dean reached the field and began to put on his wings, a voice rang out in the twilight.

“What are you doing?” the villager asked, fear and distrust etched on his face. “What is this contraption?”

Dean froze, but it was too late to hide. “Wings of my own devising,” he answered, careful not to reveal their true purpose. 

“Blasphemy,” another villager muttered. “We are not meant to fly.”

“It is an affront to nature,” another agreed. “You must stop this, now.”

“I cannot,” Dean said, panic rising as the villagers moved towards him, their ill-intent clear. “I must not.”

“Then you leave us no choice,” the first villager said. “I have heard a voice from Heaven, telling me of your ambition, your vain quest for power and glory. It shames us all.” And before Dean could stop him, he reached out and tore at the wings, their fragile bindings falling apart beneath his hands. “You will never fly again,” he declared.

Dean sank to his knees in despair as the villagers turned and left. He gathered the pieces of his broken wings, attempting to fit them together, but it was futile. He might repair them eventually, but not in time to reach Heaven that night. 

“Oh, Castiel,” he murmured. “Forgive me.”

How long he stayed there, frozen in his grief and his rage, he could not say. And then a hand settled on his shoulder, and Dean turned, expecting to see his brother. But instead, he gasped as he recognized Gabriel standing behind him, a frown on his face.

“That was unfairly done,” Gabriel said. “Your neighbours were influenced by Michael or Raphael. I can sense their presence here.” With a wave of his hand, the wings were repaired, and Dean drew in a startled breath. “Come,” Gabriel continued. “I will fly to Heaven with you, and I will have words with my brothers for interfering in my sport.”

With trembling hands, Dean attached his wings, and flew to Heaven with Gabriel at his side. Michael and Raphael’s faces grew sour as they took in the sight of Dean’s fully-functioning wings, and Castiel smirked at their displeasure. 

“You have gone against the spirit of our arrangement, brothers,” Gabriel said to them. “You will not do so again.”

“Very well,” Michael said. “We will allow the human to fail on his own, then.”

Gabriel nodded, satisfied, but Castiel knew all too well that he could not trust his brothers. He did, however, know a way to guarantee their cooperation. “Swear it,” Castiel said from his place beside Dean. “I command you, both of you, to swear to Our Father that you will not intervene in Dean’s test again.”

Thunderous looks crossed Michael and Raphael’s faces, but they could not ignore a request to swear to God, and once made, they could not break that vow. And so they both swore they would not attempt such a thing again.

“You are most clever,” Dean murmured to Castiel as he claimed his kiss, and Castiel smiled at him, the taste of triumph on his lips. “I would do anything for you,” he said, echoing Dean’s earlier words. 

“Be safe,” Dean said, casting a look at Michael and Raphael. “I worry what they might do in retaliation.”

“They cannot harm me,” Castiel assured him. “Though you are sweet to be concerned.”

“I want you whole, when this is over,” Dean told him, his eyes alight with mischief and a whisper of desire. Castiel laughed, amazed by Dean’s continued optimism in face of this challenge, and waved to him until he once again disappeared from sight.

“You had no right to bind us in such a manner,” Raphael said to Castiel. “You are arrogant, and selfish, and it will all come to naught in the end. He will disappoint you, Castiel.”

“Perhaps,” Castiel replied coolly. “But for now, I may enjoy knowing that I have defeated you, and that is enough.”

Despite Raphael’s words, Dean continued to visit every evening. His wings grew battered from frequent use, but he tended to them diligently each day, ensuring they would bear his weight again. His body ached with the strain of flight, but his muscles strengthened over time, and he bore his pain with stoic determination. The villagers who had torn apart his wings still cast him suspicious looks, but without Michael whispering in their ears at night, their fear soon turned to admiration. Dean would arrive home after his trips to Heaven to find gifts of food waiting for him, or a salve for his back, and he would smile to himself, bolstered by their support.

Eventually, the last day of the year arrived. Though Dean had not told his neighbours the reasons for his daily flights through the clouds, secrets never stay hidden in small towns, and he was escorted by nearly the entire village as he made his preparations for his final flight.

“Good luck,” Sam told him, adjusting the belt around Dean’s hips and checking that the wings were properly secured. Dean swallowed roughly before folding him in a proud embrace. “I would not have made it this far without you,” he confessed.

Sam just nodded, and with a chorus of well-wishes ringing in his ears, Dean took to the skies.

The entire heavenly host was assembled inside the gates of Heaven, waiting for Dean’s arrival. Castiel stood slightly apart, his posture proud, knowing his lover would soon come to end this trial. As the gates opened and Dean entered, Castiel’s face broke into a wide smile, his heart leaping in his chest. Far from breaking, as Michael and Raphael hoped, it beat more steadily than ever, strengthened by the love he and Dean shared. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean said nothing, but crossed the distance between them in two strides and wrapped Castiel in his embrace. Their lips met in a joyous collision, and somewhere in the crowd, an angel began to sing, others joining in until the skies echoed with their song.

When they finally parted, Dean leaned his forehead against Castiel’s and let out a shaky sigh. “It is done,” he said in disbelief. “Finally, it is done.”

“And well done indeed,” Gabriel said, a small smile hovering on his face. “Brothers, release Castiel. His companion has proven himself true, and you have promised that they might be together.”

Though it pained him to do so, Michael released the binding that kept Castiel in Heaven and restored his connection to the channels of prayer. “So be it,” Michael said. “Castiel, you may come and go as you please. And as for you--” he turned to look at Dean, dipping his head in the barest gesture of respect. “You have earned yourself a place here at the end of your mortal life, for there is little Our Father loves more than to reward good faith.”

There was nothing left to say, and so Dean and Castiel departed. They flew together through the skies, dipping and wheeling around the stars, who shone all the brighter in their excitement at their reunion. Eventually, though, Dean began to tire, and they spiralled down to Dean’s village, where the people still waited, their lanterns mirroring the light of the stars above.

When they landed, the villagers drew back, nervous at being in the company of an angel. But Dean smiled gently at them and said, “This is Castiel, Angel of Thursday. And you will be seeing a great deal of him in the future, I think.”

And there, in front of his entire village, Dean turned to Castiel and kissed him. One kiss per day was not nearly enough to demonstrate the depth of his love, and they had a great deal of catching up to do.

“And they lived happily ever after.”

The words echoed in the soft silence that always followed the end of this tale. From the nurseries and bedrooms of children on Earth, to the cold air of Heaven where angels whispered to one another between answering prayers, and to the velvet night sky that the stars called home, the story of Dean and Castiel was repeated over and over again.

Every night, just before they were sent to sleep, the children of Dean’s village would creep to their windows. The angels would pause in their duties and part the clouds to direct their gazes Earthwards. And the stars, just emerging to take their place in the sky, would pause in their progress, arrested by a sight they never tired of.

Just beyond the edges of the village, where the houses gave way to empty fields, two figures were visible. As their audience watched in awe, they climbed upwards into the sky, spiralling gracefully around one another in an intricate dance. 

With the light of the setting sun casting them into silhouette, and their wings wrapped so closely around one another, one could not tell where the man ended and the angel began.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! In case you were wondering, the title is from the song The Melting Point of Wax by Thrice, which references the myth of Icarus, a definite influence on this story (except, you know, I had to have a happier ending).


End file.
